"Pho, pho," said Lady Tilney, "he was only joking, and that dear little good Georgina thought he was serious." Then turning to the servant who was waiting for orders, "Shew Mr. Leslie Winyard up stairs directly," commanding, as she always did, or tried to do, in every place and every person. In a few minutes Mr. Leslie Winyard made his appearance; and having paid his compliments to Lady Glenmore and Lady Tilney for some little time, he then stepped aside with Lady Tenderden, and after conversing together, apparently engaged on a most interesting subject, they returned to the other ladies, and he entered into general conversation with his usual light and amusing anecdote. At length, however, Lady Tilney arose, saying to Mr. Winyard, "well, notwithstanding your _agrémens_, I must go, for I have a hundred things to do." Lady Tenderden echoed this declaration, and they both went away, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard, who seemed determined to sit them out _en tête-à-tête_ with Lady Glenmore. The consciousness that any thing has been said on any subject, always creates in an unartificial mind an awkwardness when the predicament that has led to the discussion really occurs;--and Lady Glenmore experienced this painfully. Every instant the sensation became stronger, and, of course, was not lost to the observation of her companion, though he affected not to perceive it; and by dint of feigning ignorance, and talking on indifferent subjects, he arrived at bringing her into the calm and comfortable frame of mind he had in view, one in which she would feel _le diable n'est pas si noir_; and this he effected with his usual address, till he evidently saw that she was rather diverted than otherwise by his conversation. He then led the discourse to music, and entreated her once more to sing the _Sempre più t'amo_ of Caraffa. She readily agreed, and their voices were in beautiful and thrilling unison when the door opened, and in came Lord Glenmore. His wife suddenly stopped, and rising from the instrument, looked abashed. Lord Glenmore, with the manners of a man of the world, addressed Mr. Leslie Winyard, regretted that he had interrupted the music, declared that he had some letters to write, and prayed him to finish the duet. But Lady Glenmore tried in vain to recommence singing--her voice faltered, her hand trembled, as she touched the keys--her eyes wandered to her husband with an expression of inquiry and uneasiness; and Mr. Leslie, too much the man of the world, and too much skilled in his _métier_ to push matters at an unfavourable moment, declared that he was exceedingly sorry, but found himself under the necessity of going away, having an appointment on business which he could not put off. Apologizing, therefore, to Lord Glenmore, to whom he always took care to pay particular deference, for not being able to remain, he hurried out.